Why?
by Faust VII
Summary: He didn’t worry about the hands cutting off his circulation or the feeling of the nearness of death. He stood there, on the cusp of his demise...His parents weren’t even looking at him. I Do Not Own Harry Potter. Twin BWL Fic.


Why?

Why _Him_?

Why was it always _him_?

Harry watched with deep green eyes as his father, James Potter, stood protectively in front of his mother, Lily Potter, and his twin brother, Alex Potter.

They were all in the great hall. The tables were filled with frightened faces of students. The Death Eaters stood cloaked in black with white masks looking like statues of wraiths as they stood still. They stood between every row wands raised and ready for any rebellion. Harry was held tightly in the arms of two Death Eaters near the front of the hall. He didn't worry about the hands cutting off his circulation or the feeling of the nearness of death.

His parents weren't even looking at him.

_Why did Alex always come first? _

_Why did Alex always get their love?_

_Was it because Harry was Ravenclaw? Was it because Harry wasn't the so called Boy-Who-Lived?_

Voldemort strode up the middle of the hall, tall and proud a smirk spreading his lips giving him a predatorily look. His black robes billowed behind him like shadows as he looked on the scene with bright eyes the color of fresh blood. The teachers at the staff table stood in a semi circle around the Potter Family, Dumbledore at their head standing like they were facing their last battle, ready to take on the world. They weren't foolish enough to send any spells though. The Death Eaters could turn on the students. So they had already lost.

Voldemort looked at them with amusement, laughter in his eyes at their predicament. Then his eyes landed on Harry, looking him over like one would a prize they had fought long and hard for. Harry was held between two Death Eaters, soundly secured, no chance of escape. A wave of Voldemort's hand, a command in silence, and the Death Eaters let him go, moving to join the other silent statues to the side. Harry fell to the stone floor, knees hitting with a silent sound, his thoughts as numb as his body. The Death Eaters had not been gentle when they had hunted him down, like an insignificant animal, in the halls and dragged him here to the hall.

_Why did his parents not cry for him?_

_Why did no one save him?_

_Was it because they believed he was worthless? Was it because he wasn't as Brave as Alex? _

Voldemort let out a laugh that echoed through the silent hall and made people cringe. Then he levelled his wand on Harry, the wand the brother to Harry's own. Harry knew what was coming. _Crucio_. He screamed in pain as it burned through his body, not bothering to hold the screams in and try to appear anything other then defeated. He withered and screamed and cried. It _hurt_. The spell was lifted and he was left panting and sobbing and broken.

Harry's parents still didn't look at him.

They didn't even seem upset, like they hadn't heard their son screaming in absolute pain. It made Harry sob even harder if just from the pain of the soul.

"Tom." Dumbledore frowned. "What do you want?"

Harry lay there sobbing and shaking from pain and the _greatest wizard of all time_ didn't even _look_ at him. How unworthy he felt.

_Why did no one care about him?_

_Why did no one look upset for him?_

_Was it because he was smaller then average? Was it because he was too smart? _

"I want your death." Voldemort hissed. "I want to rule."

Dumbledore didn't say anything else. He should have expected that answer. Voldemort looked down at Harry and the wand was raised again. So much pain! Harry howled and thrashed. Voldemort got original. Flames licked at his legs and cuts formed on his arms. It felt like glass flowed through his veins. Harry could see through the few moments of nothing that his family didn't even twitch. It made his heart scream in pain and made his cries louder.

He lay motionless not caring of the blood he lay in or the tears on his face. He felt shattered. He wanted the pain to end. Voldemort looked down at him emotionlessly. Harry somehow forced his body to his knees to face his death.

"What will you trade me Potters, for your youngest son? Your other son?"

"Never! We'll never bargain with you, Monster!" James yelled.

Harry felt a soft insane laugh escape as hysteria bubbled in his mind. Of course they wouldn't trade anything for him! Not for their youngest son. Not when they had the eldest, the famous, the heir.

_Why did no one value him?_

_Why did no one love him?_

_Was it because he didn't like Quidditch? Was it because he liked potions?_

"_They really hate you, don't they Harry?" _A voice hissed very quietly near Harry's head.

Harry didn't reply. Why should he. They both knew it true.

"_I know you can underssstand me."_

How he knew Harry would never understand. He would never care either.

"_Are you sssscared of death, Harry?"_

Was he?... Yes. A little. He was scared he'd be reborn into a life exactly like this one. Scared he'd be unloved even in death. But also excited. Excited that he may get a new chance. Excited that he could rest. He was so tired of being ignored, of being a scapegoat, of being no one.

"_It ssseemsss sssuch a wassste to kill you… but I'm afraid this is necessssssary. You undersssstand, don't you?"_

Harry shivered at the words. Yes. He did understand. He wished he didn't. He wished he was till ignorant of the world. Of life and death, of love and hate. He wished he still had the innocence to be ignorant.

"_I underssstand…"_ He hissed his reply softly.

No reply was really needed. But he wanted to speak up for once. To show he _wasn't_ ignorant. To show he was so broken that everything made sense in a way and didn't in another.

"_Good boy."_

_Why was he always the scapegoat?_

_Why was he always the one who felt the pain of other's actions?_

_Was it because he was the youngest son? Was it because no one cared?_

Harry looked back up at his parents once again. He took in the impassive expressions on their faces and swallowed thickly. They truly didn't care. Why? … He didn't even care anymore. He allowed his eyes to slide close. He felt Voldemort rest a hand on his head and stroke his hair. Harry took in the comfort offered from the pale hand that ran itself over his hair in a gesture no one had ever done before. No one had ever cared enough to.

The hand left but Harry kept his eyes closed. He heard the whisper of cloth. And knew Voldemort had taken a step back.

"Goodbye Harry Potter, true Boy-Who-Lived." Voldemort said only loud enough for Harry's ears.

Harry knew the truth in his statement. He'd known for so long. No one would ever had listened though. He also knew of the prophecy. He knew with his death the rest of the wizard world would fall under Voldemort's reign. He knew many would die, such as his parents and his brother. But why did he care? They'd never cared for him! They'd never loved him. It was a bare whisper in his soul. So why should he care of they died? All he'd ever wanted was love but they couldn't even fake that for him.

_Why was he always unloved?_

_Why was he always forgotten?_

_Was it because Dumbledore had labelled Alex as the Boy-Who-Lived? Was it because he wasn't 'powerful'?_

Harry felt Voldemort's magic rise and knew what came next, almost longed for it. He felt the air saturate with magic and could practically hear Death's footsteps. They sounded like freedom.

"Avada Kedavra."

He could picture the bright light, the same color as his eyes, flashing through the air letting off an eerie glow so many feared. He could picture the impassive looks on his family's faces. He pictured the same look on Dumbledore's. He could picture the mixture of pity and triumph on Voldemort's face. Because the Dark Lord knew as well as Harry that his death would lead to Voldemort's victory. Harry couldn't bring up any reason to care. The only thing on his mind was…

_Why?_

Then his life ended and the destruction of the world by Voldemort's hand started. He smiled.

.--.

The End


End file.
